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The man was thick set, with a bright roving eye. He reached the top floor and ran down the corridor to the little dressing room at the end where he had lost her before. She cocked her head. At the back of her mind, dim and yet disconcerting, was the perception that she herself did not know what she wanted. " "I'm not afraid, mother," said the little girl, smelling at the bouquet. Prudence. Petals!. "What is it?" demanded the woollen-draper, as he returned to the table, and took up a glass. CHAPTER XXIV.
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